The Last Thing I Need on Middle Earth is a Fangirl
by Mister Frodo
Summary: Aragorn, son of Arathorn, must lead the hobbits to Rivendell and fulfill his destiny as King of Gondor. But what he doesn't expect is that he will soon be getting a very, very unwelcome guest. Note: This story will not be continued. I'M SORRY. D:
1. The Hunted

_Originally for this story, which came from a totally random idea that happened to pop into my head, was supposed to be a complete comedy. But then I realized that the story itself would be more effective if told in a more dramatic sense. Maybe I'm just bonkers, but anyway, here is the first chapter of my Lord of the Rings drama, _The Last Thing I Need on Middle-Earth is a Fangirl

_Note: This story will not tie in completely and totally with everything in the books and/or movies. While I'm trying to make things as truthful to the story as possible, please understand that I am not J.R.R. Tolkien and do not claim to be. My writing will be different and that may make some people dislike this story. I'm okay with that. But I am flexible with the source material, so please, know that this is not exactly like the books and/or movies. Thank you._

Aragorn sat by the campfire, shivering. He tried to warm his hands in the heat of the burning embers, but no comfort came. Perhaps his shivers were not the product of cold, but of dread.

"My own… My precious…"

The sudden voice almost made Aragorn jump straight into the air. Had it not been for him being a Ranger, he probably would have shot up and alerted whoever pursued him right then and there. Instead he poked at the lit kindling, pretending that he had heard nothing. The sound of soft steps reached his ears. Whoever was tracking him was skilled at the art of stealth. But then again, so was Aragorn.

He slowly, casually slid his hand towards the hilt of his sword. With a deep breath he prepared for the action about to unfold.

In one blazing fast motion he drew his sword and spun around, surprising the shadow creeping towards him. The stalker shuttered away into the underbrush.

Knowing that his enemy was now wide alert, Aragorn dropped back, both hands on his sword. He surveyed the bushes and shrubs surrounding his campsite. "Show yourself, and I will not harm you."

"They stole it… My own… My precious…"

A shrill voice. Aragorn's mouth twisted downward in disgust. "Gollum… I remember you. Come out, and I will not harm you!"

His pursuer crawled out of the underbrush. Aragorn gasped at what he saw.

This was not what he had expected.


	2. The Meeting

_Hi, everybody! This is the second chapter of my Lord of the Rings story _The Last Thing I Need on Middle-Earth is a Fangirl_. I'd like to thank all the people who reviewed my first chapter, and for all of those who read it, even if you didn't review. I'm sorry to say this but with how busy my life is right now and all the other "projects" I'm balancing, I don't know how consistently I can update this story. So you may not want to be checking for a new chapter every day. If you want, you can tag this story for a Story Alert, so that when (not if, because I will write another chapter) I update the story, you'll get a message telling you so. Or you can check in every week or so. Sorry if this sad fact drives you away from this story, but hey, that's life! I hope you enjoy chapter 2..._

Aragorn gasped in surprise. The being lying in the dirt was not Gollum, as he had suspected, but, in fact, a teenage girl, her brown-red hair scattered across her face. Aragorn stared at her. "Who are you, and why do you follow me?"

The girl looked up at him. "Oh, hi. I'm Heather, daughter of Clarice. But you can just call me Heather, Ranger of Gondor!"

Aragorn shook his head. "You are not of Gondor."

"Dang. I guess my disguise failed." Heather got to her feet, dusting off her flowing grey cloak as she did. "Okay, I'm not really from Gondor. Or Middle-Earth, if you want to be specific."

Aragorn furrowed his brow. "How are you not from these lands? What are you?"

"I'm human, if that's what you're wondering. You see, I have this long and complicated story about how I got here, but we don't have to talk about it now. Just know that I mean you no harm, Aragorn, son of Arathorn."

"How do you know my name?"

Heather smiled. "Oh, that's easy. You see, this guy named J.R.R. Tolkien wrote these novels called The Lord of the Rings, and then—"

Aragorn held up his hand. "I don't want to hear your explanation. You still did not answer my earlier question."

"Oh, you want to know why I'm following you. Well, it's kind of complicated, but it all ties into how I got here. I was walking in Wal-Mart, minding my own business, when all of a sudden this guy stops me and asks me if I'm a Lord of the Rings fan. I guess the rubber Elf ears and the replica Legolas bow probably tipped him off. Well, of course, being an honest person, I answered yes. Then he asked if I would like to go to Middle-Earth, and, I'm like, DUH, who doesn't want to go there? So suddenly, the next thing I know, I'm in the middle of the plains of Rohan. The Rohirrim were out, and I talked with them. They gave me some better garb (I love that word, by the way) and then left. So I started wandering. I finally got here, between the Old Forest and Bree. I was thinking that you would be here. And, just as I thought, I found you."

Baffled, Aragorn paused for a moment to think. "You're here. Why did you say those words earlier while you were tracking me?"

"Yeah, those Gollumish words were a bit weird, weren't they? Well, I got my 10" official Gandalf the White statue stolen by this thug Bill Ferny in Bree. Not the best place to go to. So I was lamenting that fact."

Aragorn closed his eyes. What was this girl talking about? He had no clue as to what she was saying. He opened his eyes again and studied her. Her gray hooded cloak (if you could call it a cloak, it looked more like a cape) hung down across her back. Aside from her face, she was completely covered in wool clothing; wrist plates and armored gloves decorated her arms, and on her feet rested two brown boots. A quiver of arrows hung at her side in an odd fashion, as if the quiver were a scabbard for a sword. Aragorn sighed. "I don't know who you are or what you're doing, but this is not a great time for you to be running around, Miss Heather."

"Oh, that was so awesome!" Her grin grew even wider (something Aragorn had believed to be physically impossible.) "That sounded just like the line you say to Frodo at the Prancing Pony! Oh my gosh, this is awesome!"

"How do you know of Frodo?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because I've read the books about twenty times, and then I watched the movies a total of—"

Aragorn held up his hand as the sound of footsteps approached. "Quiet!" he whispered. With a flick of his boot he sprayed dirt over his fire, dousing its flame. "Hide, now!" He ducked behind a nearby bush, dragging his new friend with him.

He peered out from behind the bush. A group of hobbits, four of them, if his eyes were correct, had stopped on the path nearby. Their leader, a brown-haired, blue-eyed hobbit, spoke. "We will be approaching Bree soon. Remember that from now on my name is Underhill. Do not speak of the name Baggins in these parts."

With that, the four departed. Aragorn watched them leave. After making sure they had passed far enough away, he came out of his hiding place. "I must depart. You can go some other way."

Heather stumbled out from behind the bush. She glanced up at him. "What? So I can't come with you?"

He checked his equipment one last time. "It will be faster if it's just me. I'm sorry, but I must leave."

"But I want to come with you!"

He put a finger to his lips. "Quiet. There have been dark things about of late. You need to be careful."

"I can help you."

"You'll only be helping yourself." Aragorn slung his quiver of arrows around his shoulder. "Good-bye. And don't follow me."

With those words, Aragorn ran off into the deepening darkness of night, hoping that he would never see that strange girl again.


End file.
